


The WhisKey to Your Heart

by FrenchRoast



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/pseuds/FrenchRoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern-day AU: Belle goes to the Highland Games for the first time.</p>
<p>Prompt: Lucky draw, Highland Games, scorched</p>
            </blockquote>





	The WhisKey to Your Heart

Belle surveyed the rowdy, tartan-clad crowd gathered around the edges of the green field. The sun was scorching, and on top of that, Belle felt very much out of place. Belle wouldn’t have gone to these Highland games if she hadn’t been lucky enough to win the pass and vouchers for it in the office raffle. Not that she was uninterested, but mainly because she didn’t make enough money on a librarian’s salary to pay for going to an event she was just curious about. She wasn’t all that sure what happened at the Highland Games, other than “Scottish stuff.” Mostly, Belle hoped no one made the newbies eat haggis. Whatever it was.

 

But she did want to get out of her comfort zone. She loved her job at the library, but she worked in the back, away from all of the (often crazy) patrons. Cataloging was one of the more solitary library jobs, but Belle loved it because cataloging was probably the only library job that really did let her have all the time she wanted to pour through most of the books that came into the library. You had to know what a book was about in order to catalog it properly. 

 

She looked over the posted schedule. Merida (the reference librarian who’d contributed the Highland Games pass and vouchers as 3rd place prize for the raffle) had told her a whole list of events that were not-to-be-missed, but for the moment, the only ones Belle specifically remembered were the Highland Dance--that wasn’t until late this afternoon--and the Caber Toss. That seemed to be part of the athletic events, which probably encompassed some of the other events Merida had mentioned, but they wouldn’t start for another couple of hours. What should she do until then?

 

That was when Belle’s sight came to rest upon the words “Whiskey Seminar and Tasting.” It was in ten minutes. Now  that sounded interesting. And Belle had a voucher that would cover the cost. 

 

Twenty minutes later, she was seated at the end of a long line of tables, with seven glasses of whiskey lined up in front of her. There were two glasses of water, which the guy leading the seminar had explained were for different purposes. The first was for drinking, the second for adding to the whiskey. A plate of crackers sat between Belle and the floofy-haired gentleman to her left. They’d both paid attention as the speaker ran through a brief history and description of Scottish whiskey. Finally, he told everyone to pick up the glass furthest to the left, and taste it. Belle took a rather large sip. 

 

That shit  burned . Belle winced a bit, but then the bitterness of the burn subsided and she felt a pleasant warmth rise up her throat. Now she could taste the smokiness the speaker had said to pay attention to. Nice. She’d never really tried whiskey other than the occasional Crown & Coke, but this was something else. This was better than wine tasting--no chance of having to force down some ungodly sweet Moscato or Riesling or whatever was in vogue with the Real Housewives these days.

 

She looked over at the guy sitting next to her. He still had a wincing look on his face. Noticing she had noticed him, he smiled sheepishly. 

 

“I’m such shit at these whiskey tastings.” He laughed, but there was a hint of sadness to the laugh. “Name’s Rumple. I come to these every Game, but I’ve yet to taste anything but fire,” he said. 

 

“Why do you keep trying?”

 

“My boy Bae works for a distillery in Speyside. That’s where most of Scottish whiskies are made.  Every year I visit him and he invites me to go on the tour they had, but I’ve never liked it. Never understood why he and ever Scotsman I grew up with get so excited about this blend or that blend or the aroma of whichever single malt being bottled in a given year. I’m trying to understand. But I think maybe there’s no hope for me.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with not liking whiskey,” Belle said. “It’s my first time doing anything like this, and I’m not sure it’s something I’m going to seek out again. Not that I’m not game to finishing it,” she pointed out. Now she added a few drops of water to her glass, as the instructor told them. Rumple followed suit, and they both took their second sip, finishing the first glass. 

 

“Is it just me, or does it burn even more when you add the water?” Rumple asked. Belle found the wincing look on his face rather endearing. 

 

Belle shook her head. “No, it’s not just you,” she said, waiting for the burning to subside into that agreeable warmth again. 

 

“Well that’s a relief.” 

 

They made it through the next two glasses of whiskey without much more talk between the two of them, but there was no lack of laughter. They were having such a good time. By now, Belle was feeling quite adventurous, and even more flirtatious, so she decided it was time for a question before things went further.

 

“So where’s your wife? Does she love whiskey so much she can’t come to the tastings?”

 

Rumple’s easy grin disappeared into a faraway look. “No, she left when Bae was a boy. She ran off with some bloke in the Navy. Left me to raise Bae alone. And we’d just moved from Scotland to the States because I wanted her to be happier.”

 

Crap. But also, awesome , Belle thought to herself.  Crap that his wife left him. Awesome that he’s not still in Scotland. And that maybe he’s available.

 

Belle started to apologize, but Rumple held her off. “It’s okay. I made my peace with it. And if I’m not mistaken, I think our leader just told us to move on to Whiskey #4.” He smiled, and held up his glass. Belle picked hers up and clinked glasses with him. 

 

“I think this is the best one yet,” Belle said studiously as Rumple mock-choked on his.  The man next to Rumple rolled his eyes and muttered something about amateur hour. 

 

“I think it’s the most fiery one so far,” he countered. “Not so sure about best.”

 

“Definitely best,” Belle insisted. “Not my fault you Scotsmen can’t handle your whiskey.”

 

“I’ll not have you demeaning my kinsmen,” Rumple declared, his tone playful. “You’re talking to a Glaswegian here, and we don’t stand for that kind of offensive language.”

 

Belle gestured to the fifth glass of whiskey. “Then drink this glass without wincing.”

 

“We both know by now that I can’t do that,” Rumple said. He drew himself up into the most pompous, standoffish pose he could muster.“Wincing is part of the whole whiskey tasting experience, if you ask me. It is vital to truly understanding the depth of flavour in every drop as it courses down your throat.”

 

Belle giggled at this. Unable to help himself, so did Rumple. A few of the other people at the whiskey tasting were now glaring at them, which really only added to their giggling.

  
“I just want to say, Belle, it is so nice to meet someone who takes these whiskey tastings as seriously as me,” Rumple said. 

 

By the end of the whiskey tasting, the two of them had decided to spend the rest of the day taking in the games together. Even as the effects of the whiskey faded from their systems, the ease they had around each other remained. As the evening drew to a close and they made plans for dinner in a couple nights, Belle was extremely glad she’d bought that raffle ticket.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Rumbelle Christmas In July gift for the lovely clusterstruck! I hope you like it!


End file.
